? Lil B at Five Sixty, Thursday, April 26.
THE world's longest ever 15 minutes just might belong to Lil B.
Born Brandon McCartney, Lil B is a 22-year-old Bay Area rapper who is the epitome of a riddle wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma, wrapped in a grill, hefts of necklaces and a nose ring. Having released three mix tapes, lectured at NYU (yep), and played a handful of concerts in April alone, one would think his prolificness would have provided some clarity by now, but B's modus operandi remains just as cryptic today as it did when he first surfaced on the music scene.
Lil B's foray into rap began with hip-hop group The Pack, who are best known for their hit "Vans" (yes, the skate shoe). But no one really cares about that. What B is actually best known for is his completely self-made solo career. In 2010, Lil B drowned himself in social media tactics to disseminate his music and build a cult-like online following, boasting over 155 MySpace profiles and hundreds of thousands of Twitter followers.
B's following is also fueled by his genre-bending style of music, which has essentially translated into a religion called "Based" (of which B is the "Based God," respectively). At a very fundamental level, "Based" music is about being positive and being yourself (which can also mean being negative, too). Reflecting the "true to yourself" nature of the "Based" movement, Lil B's rap style is a complete stream of consciousness, which is criticized as much as it is praised. Some claim B is a terrible, monotone rapper, who raps like a child telling a run-on story ("and then, and then, and then . . ."), while others believe that this rawness is exactly what makes him a great and even talented rapper. Pitchfork has even rated some of his (25!) mix tapes and (5!) albums in the prestigious upper echelons of 8s. So when I heard that he was playing the Winnie Cooper four-year anniversary at Five Sixty, it was pretty much a no-brainer to attend.
The crowd was exactly what I expected. Hipsters in only their best ironic garb (see: "We Trippy Mane" graphic Tees, a gold necklace with an actual Volkswagen hood ornament pendant), a handful of "Based B*tches" (including a girl who intermittently flashed Lil B throughout the concert screaming "BASED GOD"), people with spatulas and wooden spoons in their back pockets (as an homage to B's now famous "cooking dance"), and a whole slew of people just too curious not to attend. Observing the attendees, I began to wonder whether B was April Foolsing us all with some weird social experiment in which the real spectacle was the spectators themselves.
By 11: 15 p.m., anticipation of Based enlightenment had reached its peak and people began to edge ever closer to the sides of the stage. I positioned myself against the right side of the stage near the stairs in the hopes that Lil B would float past me during his entrance. Turns out the Based Gods were on my side that night because at 11: 30, a few security guards told us to stand clear of the stairs. Directly behind me was a doorway that led to other floors of the venue and a few security guards had lined its corridor as well. We all knew why. B's notorious resplendent entrance music began to play and everyone swarmed the doorway. Finally, he appeared. He coyly poked his head out like a hatching baby chick, and then immediately pulled back into the corridor as cameras began to flash en masse. He strutted back out and mounted the stage, launching incrowd favourite, "Ellen DeGeneres", which the Based disciples knew word for word - and that's not saying much because the majority of the song is literally just B repeating "Ellen DeGeneres."
As an Internet-made celebrity, B's dedication to his fans is second to none. He poured cups of Grey Goose and handed them out to people between songs, and at one point even gave a girl the whole bottle. I mean, everyone loves free booze but these kids were climbing all over each other for a sip of this Kool-Aid.
Fortunately the liquor didn't affect the crowd's sing-a-long abilities, as the whole venue sang along to "Bill Bellamy's" almost nursery rhyme hook ("I got one felony, I got two felonies / I got three felonies, I got four felonies / I got five felonies, I got six felonies / I got seven felonies. B*tch, I'm Bill Bellamy"). And what would an evening with Lil B be without sporadic shouts of "Swag!" ("I Own Swag") and some sexual vulgarity? All the crowd pleasers were well represented.
But right at the pinnacle of Based enlightenment, something happened. The fire alarm went off and the set stopped. B shuffled around on stage and the security guards and venue employees looked unsure as all hell. Everyone spun their heads asking the same question as the people around them, "Is it over?" Not able to perform any more music, Lil B began to make his rounds through the crowd, touching anyone who extended an arm, autographing any item that anyone shoved in his face (passports, spatulas, hoodies, bras, foreheads, bus passes), and posing for photos. This impromptu meet-and-greet literally lasted for what would have been the remaining 20-30 minutes of the show. Now that's dedication.
Given its premature ending, I left the show feeling somewhat disappointed, but then realized, how else could a Lil B show have ended? Smoothly? Who am I kidding? The fire alarm was the perfect close to the show as it allowed B to showcase his extreme devotion to his fans; a devotion that is just as much a part of B's identity as his music itself. It seems that every month a music critic predicts the expiry of Lil B's 15 minutes, but this guy just won't go away. B's dedication to his fans and refusal to be pigeon-holed, or at the very least, understood, will keep him on the radar for longer than any of us would like to admit. And that probably makes us a lot happier than we'd like to admit either.
